Truth Scars
by Sidicious
Summary: Connor-Gone in the blink of an eye. The hole in Murphy's heart threatens to consume him until She walks in determined to take out the one responsible for Connor's death. Hearts ache & truth suffers to break free to their salvation. Murphy & Isolde  O/C


_What you __see__ is not always the __**truth.**_

But his eyes had betrayed him - _must_ have deceived him.

His brother, his twin-the other half of his soul was now lying in a morgue eternally barred from _him_ in life this moment forward.

Saints no more. Brothers forever.

Murphy McManus couldn't breathe, salty tears welled red with an ache and torment that would **never** part from him.

_**Connor**_.

_What_ they had been together - two avenging Irish angels of South Boston. He didn't know how to live without him.

Suddenly, the Boston p.d. doors _**slammed**_ open. However, this barely registered in Murphy's grief ridden psyche as he slumped self-exiled into the corner.

"CONNOR!"

Murphy _jolted_ at the mere sound of his brother's name. **That** voice so familiar and so sweet in its torment secretly resonated in the broad ropes of his chest-the Only reason he stirred and glanced up.

His playful cobalts, onced boldly wicked and full of fire, now claimed a pair of obsidian jade shadowed with an _all too familiar ache_.

"Murphy-" Isolde's voice caught in her throat, a glint of _surprise? confusion?_ briefly glossed those piercing emerald wildfire.

_Something_ in her voice made him ache-it was soul destroying to bear witness to. He had heard it only once before not so long ago. Instinctively, Murphy arose and strode over to her-his gaze silently choking back the throng of emotions smacking him over and under into a tidal wave of desecration.

He opened his mouth to speak, to form _some_ kind of words, but his voice cut to the quick in his throat.

Those piercing jades frantically searched his diamond blue, burning with a question she **refused** to ask. Without a single word being exchanegd, she _knew_: the devastation lined every inch and contour of his still-youthful face.

"No. No. **Not** Connor..."

Murphy _never_ saw anyone **Break** the way _she_ did in this moment: her chest seized in _one_ terrifying hold your breath death grasp and _pull_. It was as though the grand reaper himself was swinging the pendulum of fate.

Suddenly, those pallor lids _snapped_ open with alarming electricity-charcoal jade pierced him whole with the velocity of a bullet. Cold and without mercy.

_My Lord, he had nearly forgotten - her eyes could be so cruel._

For a fleeting second, she witnessed his jaw _clench_ and those diamond-crescent orbs burned down at her for being so damn unfair.

Without pause for breath even, she really had to marvel at _**how fast**_, he processed and decoded her. Without knowing, that **this** poision that lived inside her was _not_ because of him. _Not _for him.

_There again, it had Always been __this__ way between the two of them. _

_A road of fire filled with riddles._ _Intense and unforgiving._

As the world fell down around her-for the second time-it was as though she couldn't breathe. **It** called out to her again - a silent, soft enthralling siren tuned into a frequency _only_ she can hear.

No. Not again.

**Connor. **_**Her**_** Connor.**

Just like Faith.

The palpitations of her heart thundered with a abnormal ferocity against the bridge of her chest, clamping down until what was left of her life force became strained and erratic.

_**Terrifying.**_

And just as suddenly, **he** felt himself _instinctively _soften a thousand times in one breath at the mere sight of her so gutted and vulnerable, shattered at the seams. Something inside him quaked with a gravity he knew not.

"Isolde." Murphy's feather light voice broke at the tether, unable to bear it no longer.

He did **something** he would have never done before.

He reached out for her.

A heart-crushing wail raked that graceful svelte body of hers. The second his palm made contact with her left forearm, _she_ flinched from the unexpectedness of his touch and pushed him away.

That silent roguish diamond-cobalts averted to the diamond shaped minoleum of the lobby searing the floor.

_How stupid of him. He hadn't even __thought__ about it._

Wham! Another push! _This_ time with more force. _He hadn't expected that. _Followed by an unsuspecting smack to both his shoulders and _damn_ was she ever stronger than she looked.

**This**__time Murphy's gaze shot up and lock-stock-and-two-smokin'-barreled hers, locking those obsidian jades with something he had never afforded another before: a paralysis of grief so vast and unassuming it damn near was her undoing.

He was **numb**. Couldn't feel a thing. _No._ Couldn't show it. Not to her. Not to anyone. Only in this moment, he had lost this mastery. Never had he looked as lost, as she felt.

It was in this moment, that flaxen haired angel crashed against him-into his arms, as broken and empty as the gaping hole in his chest.

And that hole was **heavy** and **unmerciful.**

It was so sudden...so _unexpected. _He couldn't stop himself - he pulled _her_ to him. _Closer_. It was just like that, the mere contact of Isolde-his body instantly released a sob-unrelenting-once Murphy started he couldn't bring himself to Stop.

Surprisingly, he felt the soft grace of those elegant ivory fingertips run with a reassuring rhythm-massaging his wild chestnut brown close cropped hair with a solace he had not known in so long. _My lord, how he sank right into her touch._

_Part of her understood HE was in as much pain as her._

How long they remained like this-cradled and frayed beyond repair-interwoven in an agony that branded one to the other, a core shattered.

Time suspended in this moment-as night blackened across the horizon, not a single gold star to illuminate their way.

**None** of this resonated as papers were signed, authorizations were cleared and affiliations were recognized.

And yet there was one moment. As that parker pen weighed heavy and begrudgingly in his palm, his grip _tensed_ considerably as the point hovered and recoiled at the **last line**.

Murphy swallowed hard, the contours of his boyish features filled with a sudden surge of raw emotion. Cracking at the seams.

Out of nowhere, a single ivory palm-silky and elegant, clasped his left.

Murphy's roguish blues, _widened_ with surprise and instantly welled up again. _So it was true after all...Isolde had a sweet side she kept clamped away_.

And yet somehow, he found it in him to meet that heartstopping emerald gaze that crackled with a fiery determination that against all odds - electrified the hell out of him. Somewhere in between the surreal paralysis death had encased him with, Murphy knew this in his bones.

**You are ****not**** alone.** Not in this. Not ever.

Squeezing his palms gently, Murphy felt this very gesture breathe a spark of life in him.

Heavy yet furious scratching and it was no more.

It was just a piece of paper.

As suddenly as it was presented to him, the paper had vanished the second Murphy had dropped the pen.

"You're free to go sir." the detective instructed "We're sorry for your loss."

_Cold. Emotionless. And so by-the-books._

Isolde _looked_ murderous at this point, those striking ivory and rose complexion instantly glowered at the man with the pelican gaze and unmoving expression.

Murphy stood up to leave, Isolde beckoned exhausted but suddenly wired on adrenaline in the doorway. He felt her gaze sear the backs of each cop they passed with a ferocity that actually burned him.

As they made their way onto the empty gargantuin elevator, Murphy recognized a familiar glint burning dangerously in those heart stopping orbs.

As the elevator began its descent, that feather light voice striated with what _only_ came from being touched by something incredibly sinister.

"They will beg for Perdition before I'm done with them."

Murphy's eyes popped open, _suddenly_ hyper-alert because she had _not_ said a word of this in English, it rolled off the tongue in perfect-_fluent at that_- Gaelic.

_That means, after ALL this time._

Isolde Lawson. The one his brother had returned for. Never stopped loving.

The one Murphy had seen...scarcely finished that thought before it was retrieved back into the attic of his memories.

The only one Murphy made a habit of speaking Gaelic in front of. _Y'know ALL the bloody time_. That while maintaining his boyish innocence with a side of good ol' tongue-in-cheek dark Irish humor. The whole time arching an impish eyebrow as though daring her on the entire time.

She never said a **word**.

Murphy couldn't help himself -**not** with her around, in his life. With his twin. Stubborn Irish man that he is, fiercely ignored and obstinately denied.

Still, there was something inside Isolde, that had slipped inside her armor. Something when she was very young.

Someone close she couldn't _protect_.

This poison spread like a venom - and had a pronouced cummulative effect. Taking her on a path that near destroyed her.

_**What**_ she had done. Murphy inhaled at the thought. He would have done it himself in a heartbeat.

But he could not allow her to sink any deeper tonight.

"I _know_ exactly what you're thinking and the answer is _**no**_."

Woah! Dagger-tipped wrath beamed up at him with boiling intensity, it took a split-second, to get her Irish up. It was intense and commanding. _A sort of You're-Telling-__Me__?_

But the stubborn Irishman refused to be disuaded in any measure, Murphy forged ahead.

"You can't allow yourself to slip through the shadows. That's the _**last**_ thing Connor would want you to do." Murphy advanced, his roguish blues silent & piercing, his will unwavering.

The elevator paused and the doors swooshed open readily greeting a courtet of decorated cops and plain clothes detectives heralding a shackled stone cold perp. Their unexpected and immense presence squeezed like sardines on a 6 train into the suddenly compact elevator, constricting and limiting most movement.

Isolde suddenly found herself being nudged and prodded rather rudely into the immediate corner-a clear blind spot. The intensity of the perp with the doe eyes was undeniable and disconcerting. Somehow in the closer quarters, he had strategically managed to flex even _closer_, his frame starting to dig into her front.

WHAM!

A solid fisticuff _slammed_ abrasively onto the titanium fortified wall, a pair of roguish cobalts glowered with unnerving and calculating menace. Staring-Him-Down.

Doe eyes swallowed hard, a shot of anxiety **filled** him as the Irish man purposefully extended the very same fist fully obstructing his path onto this angelic woman with the crazy eyes. Safeguarding her, Murphy's entire frame hovered close, in such tight quarters.

Isolde held her breath.

Time ceased to exist, suspending indefinitively as three additional bulbous paper pushing cops from evidence entered prompting the Irish man even closer.

She felt the slightest traces of his breath raking the nape of her neck. Warm and inviting. Her skin **jolted** at this contact. Especially since it was Murphy. The intensity of those roguish deep blues was scorching. They had never been _this_ close to each other before.

_Something that shouldn't have happened, did_: her heart palpitated like thunder, as their proximity to the **other**, heightened this sudden awareness of him. It was maddening. The _way_ in which he alpha-male protected her. It was not something she took comfort in.

The contours of his still-boyish features burned pink, unconsciously the tip of her tongue wet the lower half of those lush petal lips.

It was odd, how he made her feel **safe**.

Still, his light gaze was unreadable in this moment. Without warning, a bulky balding cop mistakenly elbowed Murphy in his back. The very force of which _completely _bore every inch of Murphy, into her.

It had all happened so fast, a pair of obsidian jades widened and instinctively splayed her palms, bracing the Irish man's chest from slipping further.

A flicker of panic glossed those impish diamond cobalts.

_**His heart was pounding like crazy.**_

She felt him against the cruz of her palm-such heat reverberated manic- a flash of fear echoed in those roguish gunmetal.

Two chimes announced the first floor, and all decorated parties and their subordinates dispersed in excited droves.

She didn't say a word to him in this moment. _Couldn't bring herself to._ _She didn't know why herself._

Murphy collected himself, determinedly meeting her intense gaze and mumbled something about 'zero-tolerance' and 'porky cops'.

The elevator door started to swish close, Murphy blocked it with his left arm, the door groaned disappointedly open.

All Isolde could bring herself to do was zip up the collar of her winter coat and briskly sprint out of the elevator.

_What the hell was going on?_

**Outside South Boston P.D.**

It was somewhere after midnight, when the city on the edge of forever was enveloped in an unexpected cold front that ferociously frosted whipping and nipping any remaining stragglers out for a pack of smokes.

A pair of footsteps clambered down, one at a time, slow and at odds with the feeling. Stepping outside to the world in the _after_, pangs of unease quickly settled over them-cold and unwelcome.

Once the dust of adrenaline settled, a missile of thoughts broke free unbiden and without bias.

Murphy shifted under the emerald preceint lamp post, shafted under hues of pale clover and the discontent of unprocessed emotion building inside him.

_Lord, how he could use a shot._

He felt her gaze upon him, for once it was light and introspective.

"Where will you go?"

_Tonight._

Murphy's diamond cobalts stole unconsciously to the empty bus depot drinking in the flickering ultra violet with growing unease -_now wasn't __**that**__ just the icing on the cake? _ "Nowhere in the vicinity."

Sensing his apprehension, her large deep set dark jades so wired with the crash of exhaustion they almost burned black - still they instantly followed the Irishman's gaze upon the dingy bus depot. _Shocked-as-hell_. Murphy was advertedsly trying not to meet her gaze-_the one universal truth about all things McManus is that they were defiant as all hell._

_Especially Murphy. The man was born to challenge __**everything. **__Even Connor._

"Public transportation sucks at this hour. Let me give you a lift, okay? Just call ahead." Isolde offered, trying to make it sound as natural as possible

A crease of confusion contorted those still-boyish features. His lids clamped down as _dawning_ realization hit.

"That's all well and good. Only there's no one." Murphy admitted, the words themselves such hateful bastards, _damn, how truth scars_ - the contours of his still-boyish features again flushed carnation pink with embarrasment.

A genuine look of surprise etched across those angelic features, those full lush rose-tinted lips parted open.

"No one that can **still** stand me that is." there was traces of the impish little boy seeping into his voice

_Now, that's more like it._ _That's the Murphy she knew!_

She couldn't help it-her eyes rolled on their own accord, it was second nature by now. Something Murphy keenly picked up on and the corners of his mouth twitched unable to contain himself.

"What the hell woman! Fer fook's sake!" Murphy said in disbelief as a real belly rumble escaped his lips, and it _suddenly_ just hit him-for a few seconds-he felt **exactly** like himself before...

_Somehow she did that._

"C'mon get in." Isolde said the start of a smile eased into her voice as she gestured toward the charcoal and chrome escalade in front of them "You can crash with me. There is no reason either one of us should be alone tonight."

_Suddenly, Murphy needed a whole bar lined with shots._

Making an effort to _look_ as though he was quietly contemplating the anamolous offer (_Isolde had to bite down __hard__ on the inside of her gums at this-)_, Murphy finally nodded and waited for her to unlock the passenger side door. The entire time he noted the hint of impatience starting to hint in her striking cheekbones. As soon as Isolde slid inside, he couldn't fight his nature any longer and broke into a cheshire cat grin.

Climbing in beside her, Murphy felt his entire taut muscular frame relax the instant he settled into the cushy passenger seat. _Ahhh.._ Something gnawed, an earlier rampant curisoity, with alarming speed at the Irishman,

_Wait-fer-fook's sake!_

Abrupt head cock at the woman in question.

"How long have you been fluent in Gaelic?"

"The amount of time you've been 100% Irish." spoken with _such_ simple ease

A _LONG-DRAMATIC-RESOUNDING_ sigh permeated the contours of her Escalade. _Ha haha. If only Connor could hear this now. _The corners of her lips curled into an rather alluring amused grin. _Her first since..._to which she was instantly rewarded with a thick dense slate cloud of guilt - her piercing emerald gaze shafted upon the dash.

_Murphy was Murphy_ and instantly made himself feel at home, leaning forward so he could fiddle with the dial on the radio. But the radio and herself had recently come to blows-she had a co-worker who played it 8 frickin' hours a day..still if it gave him _some_ comfort, some measure of solace.

_My God...__**There was no bounds to the depth of what she was feeling right now.**_

**"**Thanks."

_It came out of nowhere._ Murphy paused, his long ivory fingers dangling above the knob locked with those piercing dark greens, his heart-skipped-a beat. He suddenly felt a shot of nervousness coarse throughout every inch of him.

Somewhere between the sudden breathing deprivation and racing pulse, Murphy _stilled_ himself rallying against the vulnerability. The next words to fall out of his mouth came out in a shortened breath, the intonation laced with a pang of uncertainity.

"Fer what?" His breath held laced with apprehension, Murphy literally held it drinking in the seriousness of those deep set obsidian jades - for him it was downright dangerous.

"For what you did back there." Bare and full of truth-the sharpness of it pierced him through and through: those obsidian jades glossed brimmed with a river raw desecration **connecting** like a mirrored infraction welling and reflecting in Murphy's own. Unified and one -_not alone_. An unspoken truth that oared them broken and lost in treacherous waters.

It spoke to them, resonated on a level that words could not. This knowledge alone sustained and soothed them with grace in a single measure, their bodies _relaxed_ and that old hurt in the world of the after softened and ebbed into the end of the night.

"Aye." Murphy acknowledged, the tempo of his voice tender, his gaze gentle "Aye."

The shattered heart lightened in those obsidian jades and those full rose petal lips curled in the sweetest surrender. **Not alone**. Not in _this_. Not Ever.

*A Few Years Earlier

_**Abandon **_**All Hope **

The sun bled out and cursed the grail of the horizon.

All roads lead up to the end of nowhere.

And yet _nowhere_ was the road meant to be on.

No one could find you. No one would know.

When all you had left, sanity in hand, was **you**...

The building was buttressed at an extreme crossroads linking the tiny boxes the ants of the city called home.

It was entirely 2 blocks from the abandoned subway station the derelict population migrated to at winter's end.

A hole that no one knew about.

The occasional shadow shifted, grainy and dysmorphic, against the popcorn-white seedy curtains every box one was predisposed to call their own.

All except one.

A soft gold light clinked on suddenly casting irradescent waves that glowed like tongues on a flame. It was the corner most box with chipped fading paint in place of drapery.

There stood at the edge of nowhere, a fraying form teethering on the edge of reason - watching, waiting with almost intangible resolve.

Fixing an alert almost wired gaze upon a handy wrist watch: _nearly 11 pm._

Almost time for curfew.

Inhaling deeply, the shadow of memory slipped over and inside - ridden with a torment for which no cure existed.

_"There is no going back. Numbed me, killed who I could have been. Had I not gone that day..."_

The derailing train of thoughts from yesterday morning squashed any effort it took to breathe.

The hour struck 11pm and the shattered figure suddenly felt an enormous mass of charcoal weight being expelled from every inch and contour that plagued this soul like a pestilence.

In its place, the most extraordinary event occured, a gold light poured over assuming and ridding the devastation's place-filling the figure with a radiant inpenetrable grace and resolve.

The sky was completely pitch black as this force entered the building from a side entrance.

Present Day...

_**He Saw **__this coming._

_He __felt__ it coming from a mile off._

The way in which she trembled, quaked and her soul bled out under the intensity of his striated gaze-broken in places that life may weather but never seal itself properly. _Trying like Hell _to control every muscle spasm from his perceptive diamond detection.

The keys jingled nervous and frantic in her smooth ivory palms. The source of which hung over them with a scorching that branded them. _No one wanting to acknowledge. Not in __this__ moment-when each was as tentative and uncertain in the wake he left them in._

Finally, the silver base of her apartment key made aggressive contact inside the mechanism and the lock turned with a surprised grunt. Her nerves were fried, her breathing shallow...

The entire ride leading up to this very moment had suspended like a drawbridge spilling into endless obsidian roads lined with ribbons of silence shafted under beams of irradescent uncertainity.

As the tide of reality hit him, _**Connor-Gone-Forever**_. What that truly meant...sawed him in half. His bones leaden with entrophy, the proud Irish-blood pumping through his veins halted and coagulated.

For they had once coarsed through Connor's...

They stood stock-still against the grainy abyss of the doorway. _Hollow and surreal against the January chill of the empty apartment._ _Nothing__ felt real or right._

Murphy swallowed hard, forcing the lump to rescind into the oblivion of his throat.

_Not. Now._

A pair of obsidian-jade wildfire unexpectedly _met_ his gaze-a thousand knives pierced him at what he beheld there. _Tempest of caged emotion she had not tapped into since that evil bastard..._

**Something** went through Murphy at this moment, making him ache and jolt all in a single measure. It buried itself deep inside him, tapping into what he _**forced**_ himself to will away. All those years earlier...

She _must_ have felt this, sensed it in him. For what she bore witness to was too dangerous.

As quickly as this involuntary emerald intensity locked with his, was as sharply as it was retracted onto the clover and cream corridor that spilled into the railroad apartment.

Murphy felt his shoulders _tighten_ at this and he couldn't imagine why.

Click-Click-Clickity-Click. The helter skelter of her scattered stride perked his lobes, his diamond crescent orbs instinctually _fixed_ with a razor-sharp intensity at the **way** her graceful shoulders tensed with the gravity of each step.

The flaxen haired angel appeared to be dragging her soles across coals. For each step was taken with extreme caution, as though the next would lead to damnation.

It took Murphy a split-second to realize _why_.

_**The way in which she kept her back to him, her composure as 'unaffected' as possible...**_

**Until this moment.**

It stole Murphy's breath at the mere thought..._could it be that this woman, incarnate, was putting __him__ first. Didn't want him to see her cracking at the seams..._

Every constriction, tension and line _instantly_ softened in his still-youthful boyish features as he proceeded to shut the door behind them.

Isolde _must _have overheard the sharp click of the apartment door for she half-turned her exquisite features to the right in acknowledgement.

"Would you like something to drink?" Something raw and striated speared Murphy through every taut rope of ivory skin all the way to his heart strings. _The way in which it moved him._ "I think I have a Guinness in there somewhere..."

The inflection in which her voice cracked as though she were biting back a sob rising and falling in her chest.

_In Five-Strides-Flat_ he appeared at her left shoulder and rounded until they were face to face. _The scariest truth she would ever deny._ Isolde's breath hitched, the dark pupils of those piercing jades expanded at his proximity, a mere breath away for solace she knew and yet that part we keep caged _knew_ it would be her undoing. **Letting him in.**

_NO! _It couldn't be true. _It was just the familiarity of him, the comfort of the stronghold of those ivory arms. His smell..._

Vehemenantly shaking her head, trying to grapple onto some measure of mastery and the binds of sanity she forced herself to think **logically.**___She always had problems 'accepting' death. She was __just__ confused. __**That's **__**all**__._

A pair of crescent shaped roguish diamonds _lightened_ at the struggle in those large deep set obsidian jades. Not knowing where this came from. The conflict alone ached in Murphy's heart strings, pulling with a ferocity that expanded this unending black hole inside him. It was something he recognized in him and grew from an early age. _Something that could never be filled, not by his brother...not even as the saints. That was until..._He softened and crashed all in a single measure at the thought he kept so secret. Even from himself.

"Come here luv." The intonation of his voice cracked at the ends, striated with the burden of the abyss inside him as Murphy held out those arms that _ached_ to be a part of a whole.

That dark emerald gaze rose and stirred with a storm of unresolved emotions she had yet to name or identify. Those piercing obsidian jades _widened_ at the stream of salty tears spilling freely down his eternally boyish features, settling in pools down his striking cheekbones.

**His eyes.**

_My God, his eyes betrayed the light steady reassurance of his voice. The very thing he fought like hell against himself to convey to her had resonated in another way._

_The torment he never wanted her to see._

_Reaching out to __**her**__. When all he so deniably needed..._

"O_h_ Murphy..." the tempo of her voice softened immensely, her angelic features smoothed every tense line building inside her-threatening to consume her.

She hastened forward until they were a mere few inches apart, the inside of her palm _gently_ carressed the contours of his striking celtic features. Murphy's breath hitched, his diamond crescent orbs flickered nervously with a intense current that made him tremble. Made him _ache._

For it was **her**, that pulled him to her. Taking _**him**_ into her arms. Tenderly holding him against her chest-too exhausted to surrender to herself or her grief as they dropped carefully to the floor. Softly whispering words he was too overcome to make out, the light inflection of her voice was enough to bar the rasps of perdition scraping in his mind's eye. What he found in those arms, punched a hole in that unending abyss inside his heavy heart...

_Impossible. _

As the corners of those full lush rose-tinted lips curved into the start of a small infectious little girl smile, _dear lord he had __never__ seen that on her before_...

Murphy felt this light enter him, nothing short of grace..

Nothing short of his salvation.

Taking one last look of the flaxen haired angel, broken and exiled, cradlinghim with a strength somehow they had found together.

Murphy drifted into a deep slumber, as the weight of grief-for now-sought others to plague.

*A Few Years Earlier...

The night swallowed the beams of day whole as the last remaining straggler entered the obscure building no one wanted to acknowledge _or_ question.

Sprinting onto the elevator, a towering 6ft 3inches man with disarmingly warm grey orbs, polished dark hair that greyed at the tips over his rugged features popped open his ebony rain coat to reveal a bone-white collar.

It was remarkably late and if he had even been a minute over, his code would have been denied at entry.

As the elevator stopped at his floor, the former priest's large grey orbs rummaged into his blazer pocket layered underneath his trench. A sort of unnatural glow possessed him as those soft greys roamed over the shiny bracelet dangling in his hands.

A thin pleased smile broke across his lips as he sauntered off the run down elevator and made his way to the very end of the hall.

The sounds of a radio and a old panasonic tv were the only passing distractions as he jabbed a thin silver key into the lock and turned.

Entering, he found his way in the dark, his hands roaming over the furniture until they found the desk lamp situated adjacent to the popcorn painted windows.

Letting out his cotton white shirt, the former priest poured himself a glass of whiskey he kept hidden in a trick door inside the kitchen cabinet. They weren't suppose to have it. Not after...

Sipping deeply from the glass, his mind poured over the days events unable to believe his luck.

His lids closed over slightly, half mast-his heart beat at a perfect steady rhythm.

BOOM! BOOM!

Snapping open with primal adrenaline, those grey wonders sizzled with an ravenous pain.

_It took him a split second to realize that his kneecaps were broken. _

Those bright greys appraised as two crimson holes, spilled without restraint, rushing down his cotton pants.

A pair of footsteps rushed forward with determination, _hmm_, from across the room. His slick greys cagely gauged the striking dark-haired woman as she came into complete focus. _There was something about those piercing jades that stole him. _

His lips curled into a gleeful smile, his smoky greys basked at the soul-destruction bearing with a unyielding force down at him.

"_Look_ at what I made you into." He rasped delighted

Something burned dangerously, _ooh it keeps getting better_, he thought as the pain washed over him pummeling without restraint.

"I'm not Faith." the soft inflection, the steadiness of her voice, how _calm_...

Something told him she had been to this place inside herself, _many_ times.

"I _know_." He rasped, ennuciating the last word-his large greys narrowed like a bullet locking with her own ferocity. "You were sick that day remember? Came down with the flu. Faith just happen to be there."

He shot her a pointed look, that twisted her right on the spot.

_**Oh God...**_

The nozzle of something hot and round slammed itself under his chin, as he felt a pair of ivory fingertips inter-lock his dark hair into a vise-like grip.

"You're going to go to hell for this." He said, a waiver of fear finally ebbed into his voice.

True surprise _flickered_ in those grey sickle saucers as she finally locked a steel-like gaze that paralyzed him.

"Are you kidding me? I would _burn_ just to torture you."

As she emptied the last of the mag into his sickly disarming features, a spray of blood spattered across those cherubic features.

Those piercing obsidian jades sharpened emptily, watching waiting as the light flickered and went out..his light greys unmoving off her.

Her soul bled..scattered into the wind in a thousand pieces.

(*Back to Present Day)

The Next Morning...

11:51 a.m.

A pair of ivory ilet curtains swayed to the force of an unprecedented phantom breeze rippling the hem in almost playful way. Taking a passing interest in a singular pair of wood-crafted rosary beads, the wind stroked the anointed cross with a unsuspecting familiarity.

_Aaah!_ Spotting an all too familiar face, locked in a r.e.m state, the force felt 'compelled' to announce itself properly. _Thar you are you good-looking bastard, Rise and Bloody Shine!_

_Sa-mack!_ The force applied was enough to prompt Murphy merely to turn on his right side, groaning slightly and sobbing unconsciously before he drifted into _another_ snooze-fest!

_So bloody typical. Irish bastard could sleep through a hail storm on the isle!_

Flitting to the right side of the bed, the force leveled at the ivory lobe and devilishly blew.

Instantly, Murphy sat up alert and wired,

"CONNOR!" He called out, no sense of reality had claimed him yet as his diamond crescent orbs scanned the perimeter of the unfamiliar room.

Taking in the rather large bed room with light powder blue walls cluttered with a decade old's worth of newspaper clippings. A maghony bureau hoisted what would have been a lovely mirror. The only pecularity was the mirror was covered and glued together with duct tape.

On the bedside table, a picture of two rather pretty fraternal twins-one with jet black locks and steely dark orbs over a pair of lush strawberry hued lips and the other was a flaxen haired with mischevious obsidian green orbs and rose-tinted full lips.

Faith and Isolde.

Isolde was staring up at her younger sister with a curious yet concerned expression as Faith stared numbly off into the distance.

_My God...this must have been after it..._

He was in Faith's room. Had to be.

His gaze fell to his ebony peacoat hanging neatly on a nearby chair and noticed a red light blinking.

Which only meant one thing.

Grabbing his blackberry storm, Murphy punched in his voicemail code and soon his ears were assaulted with the familiar endearing cross between spanish and english.

"Murphy dude! You betta call me! Adios mio!"

_That was actually the 'calm' message._ For his pal Romeo left a 20 minute voicemail, part inchorent sobbing and wailing -even though Murphy spoke fluent Spanish, he didn't comprehend a word that was coming out of his friend's mouth.

Finally, Murphy hung up only to text Romeo of his whereabouts. He knew if he didn't contact him soon, his friend would do something incredibly stupid and amazingly brave.

With everything that occured in the last 24 hours, he hadn't even _thought_ of him.

As an after thought, Murphy texted, "Bring breakfast."

Striding into the main living room, Murphy crossed over into the bathroom, his diamond orbs roamed thoughtfully to Isolde's room (whose door was partially closed over).

_Last night must have knocked her out too._ He made a mental note to start some tea after his shower.

As he stepped into the shower, beads of hot water enveloped him stroking every contour and slope of taut muscled stomach-slipping over every holy tattoo Connor had ever inked on him.

Climbing out of the shower, Murphy wrapped a nearby dark plum towel around his waist. His diamond cobalts spotted a pile of fresh clothes and a note written in Isolde's hand on the toilet.

"_Murphy, Don't wear your clothes from last night. Here is a fresh pair of clothes Connor had brought over awhile back. From what I'm told, he took them out of your dryer and they are rightfully yours. ~Isolde (after thought), Please don't be mad."_

The corners of Murphy's lips twitched, trying earnestly to fight the laughter rising in his throat.

"Fer fook's sake Connor!" Murphy shook his head, trying not to appear as amused as he truly was "That was me favorite shirt."

A phantom breeze blew in exactly at that moment and a light tinkle-like a small bell- began to ring in _his_ ear as though throughly amused. _Ha. Says you and all the fun I had in __your__ shirt._

A rather dramatic banging resounded in his lobes and Murphy distinctly overheard a pair of footsteps rush towards the front door.

"Murphy you cuero! I am NOT your mexican delivery boy!" Romeo bellowed for the entire building to hear.

The massive oak door was thrown open and Romeo halted abruptly in his nonsenical tirade, his dark eyes _lost_ on the flaxen haired angel with the piercing dark jade orbs and lush rose-tinted lips. Trying **hard** _not_ to give her the not so inconspicuous look over, Romeo _finally_ found his voice.

"I'm sorry ma'am. I think this Irish dick friend of mine is playing a..a..a."

"You're Romeo right?" the flaxen haired stunner broke into a warm becoming grin, her obsidian jades suddenly filled with a haunted quality "Come on in. I'm Isolde Lawson."

As Isolde stepped aside, still half-asleep, her emerald gaze finally dropped lower on herself. _Damn it!_

Romeo entered and drank in the clover painted walls and Irish-shaped St. Bridgid's crosses, including a wall of Gaelic paraphenlia.

"Nice place you got there Is." Romeo started and finally his dark gaze settled upon Murphy sipping Irish-Breakfast tea from a steaming mug.

"Hey thar, Rome." Murphy said weakly, his soft Irish accent now held a tainted striated quality that Romeo quickly picked up on.

"I'm going to go change. Make youself at home." Isolde walked briskly towards her bedroom door, the heat of Romeo's gaze _fixed_ with a intensity upon her notable assets, adoring the way those long toned legs strode in a way that left all room for rational thought.

"_H_ey!" Murphy's voice, rang sharply in his ears "Don't you even think about it Rome!"

The protectiveness in Murphy's voice could not be missed as those diamond crescent orbs stared daggers at him. _Woah Murph! Romeo thought torn between amusement and thundering amazement._

Gesturing a wild forefinger at Isolde's bedroom door, Romeo proclaimed incredulously,

"_**That's**_ Connor's girl?"

Murphy slammed the mug down as Romeo released a 'Da-amn! Connor! (followed by another resounding) Da-amn!"

"Romeo!" Murphy yelled suddenly trying to grapple his pledge's attention before it became too late for it to be squashed within a reasonable amount of time.

Romeo noticed a serious expression replace the irritation growing on Murphy's face and instantly he felt his antenna go up, his body temperature growing cold. _Knowing._

Scanning Isolde's bedroom door, Romeo swallowed hard and locked an apprehensive stare with Murphy. _So the word on the street was true after all.._

"I'm sorry about Connor man."

Instantly, Romeo's dark orbs filled with red and raw salty tears, and Murphy knew that deep down his pledge and his friend had a huge heart.

"Sorry...SOr-ry man. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. But-damn it!" Romeo sobbed over his words as Murphy stood up and began to pour his friend a cup of tea.

"Here drink this down Rome." Murphy extended a blue mug steaming with Irish breakfast tea and slapped his friend on the back. "It will do you good."

A pair of those puppy dog dark orbs beckoned up at him,

"Make it Irish?" Rome was on the verge of pouting, his rum ebony orbs just _begging _for the good stuff.

Deciding to indulge and not to cajole him as per usual, Murphy nodded.

"Just let me get my flask."

A piercing scream, frantic and nervous, penetrated the stillness of the Lawson kitchen. Murphy's chest _tightened_ instantly recognizing the source and what lie behind it: _fear._

_Isolde._

Without pause for breath, she vaulted _ala Star Trek warp speed_ until Isolde lept upon the kitchen island, adrenaline clearly pumping in her veins.

Her dark jades searched anxiously, roaming the floor with a fine tooth comb.

Suddenly, a long grey mass sprinted across the wooden floor and darted straight for Romeo.

"Oh shit!" Romeo's rather large dark orbs popped and he stood paralyzed with unmistakable fear.

Swiftly turning, the rodent had the audacity to stop and stare at Romeo as though greeting a house guest.

A pair of crescent shaped roguish diamond blues _studied_ the damn bastard, its back to the Irishman.

"Fuck! That's a rat!" Romeo cried out incredulous

The brazen devil turned its peepers upon Isolde, all the vibrant color instantly drained from her striking features.

Suddenly, the creature squealed with nervousness writhing with hyper-anxiety as Murphy grabbed the sucker around its mid-section with a titan death-grip.

SHOCK smacked Isolde hard, her obsidian jades locking astounded upon this. With one free hand, Murphy shoved opened the living room window and cracked the bastard's neck.

Romeo grimaced at the finality of the sound, _damn how he hated those things_, relief flooded him as Murphy called out,

"Look out below." Dropping, he would have preferred hurling, the sucker but the last thing he wanted was for it to land on some poor kid. _Where there was one, there was always more._

Isolde watched frozen as Murphy massaged his hands with purell and enough soft soap he wouldn't have to use lotion for a week.

Unexpectedly, Murphy stopped in front of her, his roguish diamonds lightened as he fixed his gaze, offering the palm of his hand with a sweetness she hadn't expected.

"Come on down luv. There's no need for you to shake like that ever again."

It took a prolonged moment for her to process **this**.

_The truth was she was blown away by this._

Glancing down at herself, her limbs currently had a mind of their own but thankfully were trembling less and less.

_Dear God had she really fallen apart like that in front of him? This was so not her._

Upon instinct, her palm extended, shaking lightly as Murphy met her half way and gingerly (very carefully she noticed) lifted her up and settled her on the floor before him.

"I'm sorry..those things just freak me out." Isolde recalled the fear still fresh in her mind and suddenly Murphy clasped both her shoulders with a reassurance she instantly warmed to.

_There it was again-the roughness of his elegant fingertips scorched her-_Isolde steeled herself, _No this was just a very confusing time, that's all!_

She sucked harshly on her lower lip, the intensity of his dark blues studied her with a profound concern she fought to ignore.

"I'll go have a little 'chat' with the super. Bout time the exterminator paid a visit." Murphy strode casually into Faith's room, collected his peacoat & rosary, tossed the flask at Romeo who barely reacted in time and determinedly closed the door behind him.

_A pair of dark orbs darted with a maturing curiosity at these rather intriguing events._

_**Huh.**_

_**Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. I hope to have the sequel to 'Truth Scars', which will be titled 'The Danger of Us' up soon.**_

_**Happy Holidays, **_

_**Sidicious **_


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